


Thine own self

by stamets



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Friendship, Pre-Canon, Shakespearean Language, probably incorrect use of thou/you but eh, trans!hamlet, trans!ophelia (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:18:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stamets/pseuds/stamets
Summary: For lexigent in the Stage of Fools 2019 exhange! Sorry for being a day late, I hope you like it!Based on the following prompt: Laertes and Hamlet growing up. What if Hamlet is a trans boy, but doesn't realise this until Laertes goes to uni? Laertes goes away and comes back to find everything changed.





	Thine own self

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lexigent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexigent/gifts).

> Disclaimer: I use he/him pronouns for Hamlet also when he still thinks of himself as a girl. I do use some gendered terms such as Queen.

“What now, my good Laertes? Is this this to be the end?”

Laertes grinned and played with his sword, swiftly touching the younger child’s nose.

“Alas, ‘tis so, or so it seems. That is unless thou can still beat me from thy groundly position.” He raised an eyebrow.

Hamlet rolled his eyes and crawled up to his elbows, waving his friend’s sword away. “My father will hear of this. One does not simply beat the future Queen at fencing.”

“Pfft, ‘tis but a game! What fun is it to play a game knowing its result?” Laertes crouched down to meet Hamlet’s eyes. “Listen well, dear Hamlet. A game is best played blindly, and its result best enjoyed in surprise.”

Hamlet sighed and looked away. “Not to me. My life is all laid out for me – my will is not my own, I am subject to my birth.”

Laertes nodded in understanding and stood upright again, holding out his hand. “My father constantly annoys me with his advice, but for once I do agree with him.” He waited for Hamlet to take his hand and get up before continuing. “To thine own self be true, thou canst not then be false to any man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hamlet frowned in response.

“Perchance you will understand when you are older. No, I am sure of it.” Laertes let go of Hamlet’s hand to give him a playful tick to the head. “Thou hast the wits for it.”

“Oi!” Hamlet reached up to tick him back, but Laertes was already running away, laughing. Looking back one more time, he yelled:

“And refrain from telling thy father!”

Hamlet smirked and let him get away. “Fine. He will not hear of this”, he mumbled. He turned away to return to the castle.

Laertes and Hamlet. They had been practically inseparable ever since Polonius became King Hamlet’s most trusted advisor, and the family had moved to the royal castle. Their families encouraged their friendship, but kept an eye open. As Laertes’ blood was not of royal heritage, a romance in any form, if it were to come that far in the years ahead, would be punished with strict separation.

Now Hamlet was close to adulthood, and his playful days with Laertes were over. Although they were still friendly with one another, their parents’ suspicion had been contagious, and they had grown apart. Hamlet to Horatio, Laertes to his school and all the friends that came with it.

Laertes would soon leave for France to continue his studies, and would not be back for several years unless a grave event happened in the state of Denmark.

Hamlet lied alone in the throne room, a book on his head and his head on the ground, as he often lied when wanting to be on his own with his thoughts. Those thoughts mainly formed a large circle now, with Laertes in the middle. His soon leaving put a strain on the young royal, more so than he had expected.

He had always admired Laertes – his dedication and intelligence. What else did he admire about him? His loyalty, yes, he cared more than anything about his sister. His liveliness then – he was as prone to mischief as he was to good results at university. Having grown up with the stern upbringing that the Royal Court required, his rebellious tendencies were praiseworthy. Being a man, he could afford to rebel occasionally without being grounded and declared mad. Hamlet saw those tendencies in himself; the desire to simply be bored and do something nonsensical.

What more? He admired his looks – dull but not unhandsome. A good combination for a man who did not want attention as much as some people in the Danish court did. Hamlet liked to think of himself as dull but handsome as well, although a mirror disformed that image into something he could barely recognise. He always fumbled with his cheeks, pulling them flatter, and darkened his eyebrows to make them appear thicker. It was not that he was unhandsome, but more that in his current shape he was viewed upon by the world in a way that was far distant from the way he thought of himself. His attempts at creating a more masculine look were only meant to help close that distance. He felt himself strangely drawn to that new treatment Ophelia had also undergone, to alter the physical gender. But soft now – the fair Laertes!

“Hamlet,” Laertes laughed. “In such deep thought thou hast sunken to the ground. Tell me, what is it on your mind?”

Hamlet tilted his head backward to see the older student. “’Tis what I see, too. Thy leaving for France has been the source of great contemplation in my mind’s eye.”

“Aw, thou already misseth me.” Laertes walked a bit closer but paused several metres in front of his friend. “I came to say goodbye.”

“So I figured.” With a groan, Hamlet rose to his feet. “Goodbye, then.”

Laertes looked down. “Perhaps, when I return, all will be different. Thy father is old, thou might be Queen of Denmark.”

“Oh, I just cannot wait.” Hamlet rolled his eyes. “But do not speak of such misfortune, it can only figure as an evil omen.” He sighed. “Although you are right, much can change within five years.”

“Only for the better, I hope.” Laertes stepped forward to place his hand on Hamlet’s shoulder. “Remember my father’s advice.”

“To my own self be true, yes, I know. I will.”

“Goodbye, Hamlet.”

“Farewell, Laertes.”


End file.
